


Just The Way I Am

by captainhoran



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bullying, M/M, Nerdy References, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 17:25:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhoran/pseuds/captainhoran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Styles twins, Marcel and Harry both have a thing for Louis Tomlinson. What happens when he comes between them? Will Marcel try to change who he is to impress Louis?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just The Way I Am

“Marcel, are you finished yet?” There are loud bangs on the toilet door as Harry shouts the question impatiently. “I’ve got to go!”

Marcel looks in the mirror and sighs deeply. He’s applying a heavy coating of gel to his hair and smoothing it back with his hands. It’s a delicate process, and he wants to look good for a certain someone. When he’s satisfied with his hair, he places his thick-rimmed glasses on and pushes them up the bridge of his nose. He tugs down on his sweater vest with a content smirk. Today is going to be a good day. 

“It’s about time,” Harry sighs when Marcel opens the door. He looks his twin brother up and down with a concerned look. “Are you really going to wear that to school?”

“Why, yes, I am,” Marcel replies with a toothless smile.

“Just don’t talk to me,” Harry says with a frown. He sticks out his leg as Marcel tries to pass, knocking him to the floor. “Oops. Sorry, bro.”

Marcel scrambles to his feet before sliding his glasses back to their proper position. He knows that Harry’s teasing is just harmless fun, but it never ceases to hurt his feelings. With a harumph, Marcel leaves Harry behind and catches the bus on his own. He doesn’t want to ride to school with that jerk anyway. 

His backpack is heavy with his advanced placement textbooks, so he shifts it from shoulder to shoulder. The school lounge is teeming with the types of students that didn’t want to be at school, so Marcel found his way to the library. His backpack hits the table with a loud sound, causing a glare from the librarian. Marcel silently apologizes quickly and she smiles and nods in approval. 

“Oh, hey, Marcel,” came a voice from the table behind him. Marcel turns quickly at his name, the voice sending shivers up his spine.

“H-Hi, there, Louis.” His entire body is tense, and he’s not making eye-contact with the boy.

“Is that a new sweater vest?” Louis comments, pointing at him with his pencil. 

Louis is one of Harry’s friends, and Marcel always finds it hard to talk to Harry’s friends. They’re always loud and obnoxious when they come over to his house, but Louis always finds a way to make Marcel feel somewhat included. Marcel can feel a blush creeping across his cheeks when Louis notices his new article of clothing. It’s exactly what he had wanted, but now that it’s happening he wishes he were invisible.

“Y-Yes it is, I got it yesterday.” Marcel looks at the ground to hide his blush, kicking at the carpet.

“Well, it looks very good on you. Want to sit with me? I could use some help on my homework if you don’t mind.”

“I would!” Marcel responds quickly, suddenly realizing his answer sounded like a decline. “I mean, yes I will. Not that I would mind, because I wouldn’t, you know. Yes, I would love to help you is what I meant.” 

Marcel notices Louis’ smile as he rambles on, making his situation only worse. Louis pulls out the chair next to him and pats on it with a wink. With a deep breath and a swallow, Marcel moves his belongings to the table Louis is at. His palms are sweaty and his hands are shaking, and he prays that Louis can’t tell. 

Not that this behavior is anything new to Louis. He always makes Marcel feel like this. 

Louis chews on his pencil as Marcel looks over his work with nervous mannerisms. His handwriting is scrawly and large, hardly the precise calligraphy that Marcel uses to correct his mistakes. Marcel notices how close their forearms are, practically brushing, practically touching. He lets out a shocked and nervous laugh when Louis’ leg moves, pressing up against his own. 

“Louis! What are you doing in here?” The loud blonde one asks as he approaches the table. He sits down on the table, moving a few books out of the way. “Oh, hey, Marcy.”

“It’s Marcel,” he replies in a disgruntled tone.

“Yeah, yeah, but I call you Marcy,” Niall says with a smile. Marcel doesn’t consider Niall a friend in the slightest with all the pranks he’s pulled on him. 

“I’m just getting some studying done, Niall,” Louis says with an annoyed voice. 

“Eh, who needs studyin’?” 

“People with futures,” Marcel says suddenly, clamping his hand to his mouth once he’s realized what he’s said. 

Louis laughs almost angelically and pats Marcel on the back a few times, “Good one, mate.” 

Marcel smiles feebly at the brunette next to him, the perma-blush only growing a darker shade. 

“Come on, Niall, let’s get you to class.” 

Niall looks a bit lost in his own world, confused as to what the joke was. But he seems happy to be leaving the library. “See ya, Marcy!” 

Louis looks back and smiles at him, sending him a small wave. If Marcel were a different type, he’d say he was watching Louis leave with his eyes planted on his hind-quarters, but he’s not, so he wasn’t. 

With a quick glance at the clock, Marcel realizes that he needs to get to class as well. He grabs his over-stuffed backpack and drags his feet to his first period. It’s a bit frivolous to Marcel, because he is so ahead of the other students in his classes. The teacher has to explain things over and over that Marcel understands on the first take. 

By lunchtime, Marcel already feels emotionally exhausted. He works the combination of his locker quickly, and opens it with finesse. He exchanges his backpack with his lunchbox and shuts it, turning the combination the right to make sure it locked all the way. He turns around with a content smile, only to have it fade when someone deliberately knocks his lunch box out of his hands, sending the contents scattering across the floor and ruining his lunch.

“My gluten-free sandwich!” Marcel complains with a high pitched raise to his voice. 

“Got something to say to me, nerd?” The larger boy asks as he turns around. Marcel squeaks slightly at the sudden confrontation, shaking his head vigorously from left to right. 

He steps back slightly, feeling his back press up against the cool metal of the lockers. A small crowd of students are formed around them now, avid chatter floating around. Marcel swallows hard as he watches the boy walk closer to him, clutching his new sweater vest in his largy and meaty fists. 

“Please, sir, I’m sure we can figure something else out here, perhaps an impasse?” Marcel raises his hands in defence, but he can feel his entire body shaking. 

“I don’t know what an imp ass is, but I do know that I would feel better if I punched you in the face.” 

Marcel is being lifted on the ground now, and his throat is constricting with the pressure being held against it.

“Hey!” Came a booming voice from the outskirts of the crowd. The boy seemed unphased by the call for attention. That is, until the source knocks him over and away from Marcel. 

The bully glares up at Harry with flared nostrils, scrambling to his feet. Marcel gingerly fixes his own collar, glancing furtively around the crowd, stopping short when he sees Louis standing there looking concerned.

“Leave my brother alone, you dick,” Harry says as he aggressively pushes the thicker boy away from him. Marcel simply stands there with his hand rubbing his neck and eyes cast to the floor.   
The crowd scatters once the bully flees and they realize that the show is over. Louis immediately kneels down and begins to pick up the contents of Marcel’s lunchbox.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s ruined,” Marcel sighs. 

Louis nods, tossing all of it in the garbage bin and handing the empty lunchbox to Marcel who clutches it dearly to his chest.

“Hey, why don’t you come out to lunch with us?” Louis suggests to him with a solemn smile. 

“Ugh, Louis,” Harry groans, jingling his keys in his hands. Marcel looks between the two with a mix of fright and delight.

“N-No, that’s okay. I’ll just get something from the cafeteria.” 

“See? He’s fine. Let’s go.” Harry starts to walk away but stops short when he realizes that Louis isn’t following him. 

“But I want you to come,” Louis insists, still looking at Marcel. 

“Really?” Marcel asks with a shocked frown. 

“Yeah, man, come on!” Louis places a hand on Marcel’s back, guiding him down the hallway with him. Marcel keeps a strong hold on his lunchbox, but moves accordingly. 

Niall is waiting for them by Harry’s car when they get there. “‘Ey, Marcy is joining us? Sweet!” 

Marcel does his best not to glare at the smiling boy, but he finds it increasingly difficult when he receives a hard punch on the shoulder from him. He climbs into the back of the car, his heart picking up pace when he realizes that Louis has climbed in after him leaving the front seat for Niall. 

“Alright, where to?” Harry asks when he sits in the driver’s seat. 

“McDonald’s!” Niall chimes in cheerfully. 

Marcel has his eyes glued to Louis, and jerks them away when Louis looks over to him. He’s beyond petrified that Louis has caught him staring, and he begins rubbing his hands together in a nervous tick. 

When the car begins to move, Louis reaches over and playfully pushes Marcel to the side with a friendly smile. His smile causes his eyes to crinkle slightly on the corners. Marcel smiles nervously back at him, pushing him back. He notices a glare from Harry in the rearview mirror as he watches them. 

“Marcel, are you coming to the party tonight?” Louis asks him, his attention focused fully on him. 

“What party?”

“Louis, Marcel doesn’t want to go to a party,” Harry says harshly, tapping on the signal changer. 

“There’s a party at my place tonight,” Louis says, ignoring Harry. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Marcel says, shaking his head and looking to the side. 

“Why not? I want you to come,” Louis says, patting him on the shoulder.

“Okay,” he replies quickly with a timid smile. There’s an exaggerated sigh from Harry’s direction. 

 

When the Styles twins arrive home after school, Marcel goes straight for his desk and pulls out the weekend’s worth of homework. 

“What are you doing, Marcel?” Harry asks, leaning against the doorframe. 

“My homework, duh,” Marcel tries to sound sassy, but fails. He does the smirk thing anyway. 

“As much as I hate this, you’ve got a party to go to tonight, and you are not going to be wearing that.” 

“But Louis said he liked it.” 

“He must have lied. Come on, bro. You can wear something of mine. Also, wash that gel out of your hair.” 

Marcel nods attentively, doing as he is told. With the gel washed out, Marcel’s hair looked almost exactly like his twin’s. He tries to use a comb on it but Harry shakes his head and runs his fingers through it a few times. 

“There, now it will dry like mine. Let’s get you some clothes.”

Marcel follows Harry as he places his glasses back on his face, a hand placed firmly on the towel wrapped around his waist. 

“Alright,” Harry says aloud as he sifts through his drawer. “This shirt, and these jeans.” 

Marcel looks at the skinny legs on the jeans in horror. “How am I supposed to squeeze into these?”

“It’s possible, trust me.” Harry winks at him before taking off his own shirt to change. 

“Hmm,” Marcel says in a nervous squeak. He begins to get dressed himself, trying to figure out which hole to put what leg into. 

When he’s finished he coughs a few times to get Harry’s attention. Harry looks over at him and has wide eyes for a split second. “Acceptable,” he says in a deadpan voice.

“Do you think Louis will like it?” Marcel says in a quiet and shaky voice as he slides his glasses up his nose again. 

Harry glances over at him with a furrowed brow. “Marcel, do you... Do you like Louis?”

“What?” Marcel practically jumps when the question is asked. “No, no, no, I mean, I think he’s really nice and...”

“Marcel.” Harry sits on his bed and crosses his arms. 

“I don’t know,” he sighs. He can feel his throat closing as if he’s going into anaphylactic shock. 

“Louis is my friend, Marcel,” Harry sighs. 

Marcel hold his arms close to his sides and nods. “Yeah, I know.”

“Good!” Harry stands up and smiles. “We’ve got a party to get to, come on, kid.” 

Harry ruffles his hair and pushes him out the door. 

When Harry pulls up and parks in front of Louis’ house, Marcel can feel his anxiety rising significantly. He’s never been to Louis’ house, but he’s imagined it several times. As soon as he’s in the door, Harry finds a way to ditch him. It’s awkward walking around alone, with curious glances and whispers between the people he passed. 

“Harry!” Came Louis’ voice from behind him. Louis wrapped his arms around his back and snuggled the side of his face onto his shoulder. 

Marcel turned around with a large blush painting his face and a small smile. He fixes the position of his glasses. “Actually, it’s Marcel.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Louis holds a hand to his mouth in shock. “Damn, you look hot, Marcel.” 

“Thanks, ha,” he says nervously, rubbing the side of his neck. 

“Want a drink?” 

“Oh, I don’t know about that...” 

“Come on, what’s the harm?”

“Impaired judgement, liver disease, depressed immune system, cancer.” Marcel lists out the possible side effects on his fingers. 

“Oh,” Louis says, taking a sip from his cup. “It’s fun, though.” 

“Okay,” Marcel says automatically, taking his cup and drinking from it. He makes a loud coughing sound and winces. 

“I was going to get you your own,” Louis laughs, taking the cup back from him. 

“Probably shouldn’t,” he says, rubbing at the burning sensation in his throat. 

“I’ll find you later, alright? I’ve got to make sure these losers aren’t breaking anything.”

Marcel simply nods and waves at him as he walks away. He sighs and walks over to a couch with slumped shoulders. He falls onto it and watches as the party unfolds before him. It’s a lovely sociology experiment if he’s being honest with himself. He observes as a boy tries and fails miserably to pick up a girl, resulting in a hard slap to the face. 

“Heyyyyy, Marcy!” Niall shouts as he approaches. He sits next to Marcel despite his glare of disapproval. 

“Hey, Niall.” 

“How ya doin’, buddy?” He sounds incredibly intoxicated. 

“Just peachy.” 

“That’s good, right?” Niall furrows his brows. 

“I-”

“Niall!” A girl shouts excitedly, jumping on his lap and connecting their lips passionately. Marcel looks to the front of him with wide eyes. 

“Hey, sweetie,” Niall winks at her.

“Come dance with me,” she insists, and Marcel is pretty sure she’s grinding her hips into his lap. 

“Absolutely.” They get up and make their way to the center of the room, Niall sending Marcel a big thumbs up and a wink. 

Marcel is almost certain that he never wants to go to one of these things again, until Louis finds his way back over to him.

“Marcel! C’mere!” Louis grabs him by the hand and drags him down the hall. They pass a glaring Harry who is chatting up a girl. 

Louis opens up a door and tosses Marcel in it, following closely after and closing the door behind him. 

“Louis, this is a closet,” Marcel points out with a quirk of his lip.

“I know, this is my house, silly.” He giggles, a nice indication to his level of intoxication. 

“Why are we in a closet?” 

“So I can do this!” Louis leans in quickly and kisses him violently, causing Marcel’s glasses to go askew. He tastes like alcohol and nacho chips. As much as Marcel hates it, he pushes Louis away.

“Why?”

“Because I want to...” He plays with the collar of Harry’s shirt and looks up into Marcel’s eyes. “Don’t you want to?” 

“Yes, but I...” 

“Good, now stop asking questions please.” 

Louis connects their lips again and presses Marcel against the wall, his hands resting on his hips. Marcel isn’t sure of what to do with his hands, so he keeps them in mid-air. He’s petrified that Louis is going to catch onto his lack of experience, and realize that he’s not a good kisser in the slightest. He whimpers slightly as Louis presses his body closer to his.

Marcel’s face is hot and he can feel a tingling sensation in his belly. He makes a small squeaking shriek when Louis begins to undo his belt and stuffs his hands into Harry’s pants. Marcel’s head falls back and hits the wall hard, and Louis latches onto Marcel’s neck with his teeth bared. 

A moaning sound comes from Marcel’s mouth, causing a panic in the boy who had never made a sound like that before. He briefly wonders what god was gracious enough to grant him this moment with Louis and Louis’ hand on his... extremities. 

Louis’ hand increases in intensity and that’s all it takes before Marcel loses control of it, a sticky mess now in his pants. Louis laughs against his neck, giving Marcel goosebumps. 

“I’m really inexperienced, I’m sorry,” Marcel says in a small voice, biting his lip. 

“You’re adorable.” Louis taps his nose with his finger and winks. Suddenly all of Louis’ weight is on Marcel, and Marcel has to hold him up and notices he’s fallen asleep.

He lets him go in order to zip up his pants and panics internally when Louis crumples to the floor with his head against the wall. In a frenzy, Marcel leaves him in the closet to find Harry. 

“I need your help, Louis fell asleep in the closet.” 

“He what? Oh my god.” Harry follows Marcel to the scene of the crime and laughs hysterically. “Why was he even in here?”

“I-I don’t know, he just...” Marcel blushes. 

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” His voice rises in pitch, and it’s obvious that Harry is losing his patience.

“Come on, we’ll get him to his room, but you have to help me.” 

Marcel carefully grabs ahold of Louis’ bicep, mirroring Harry’s actions when he puts his arm over his shoulder. His hair was messed up and in his face, so Marcel gingerly swept it back with a somber smile. One glance at Harry sent Marcel’s hand shooting back to his side and away from Louis’ face. It was as if Harry was trying to murder him with a single glare. 

The twins carry their friend up the stairs and passed many concerned glances. Louis lands hard on his bed, but isn’t phased enough to return to consciousness. 

“What a loser,” Harry says fondly, lifting up Louis’ limp arm and letting it fall back on his chest. 

Marcel swallows hard and looks to the ground. He feels like he’s intruding on an extremely intimate and personal moment for Harry. 

“We should probably head out,” Harry says after a long moment of staring at Louis’ somber face. “Move it, Marcel.” 

Harry knocks into Marcel’s shoulder as he passes him to exit Louis’ room. 

The car ride is silent and consists of mostly Marcel watching Harry’s hands on the driving wheel. He feels guilty for some reason that he can’t place, and it’s driving him nuts. His head is still reeling when the car is stopped and Harry is getting out impatiently. 

When Marcel is out of Harry’s suffocating pants and into more comfortable pajama pants, he makes his way to the room that he shares with his twin. 

“What are you doing?” Marcel asks when he sees Harry lying down.

“I’m going to sleep, what’s it look like?”

“But it’s Friday... Don’t you want to watch a scary movie with me?” Marcel frowns as he sits down on his own bed. 

“We don’t have to do that every Friday, do we?” Harry sounds obviously annoyed, but Marcel doesn’t want to tarnish their tradition.

“Yes, we do.” 

“Fine,” he says in aggravation, sitting upright in his bed and running a hand through his hair. “What are we watching?”

“I don’t care, why don’t you choose?” Marcel wants to help his brother feel better, because he knows he’s upset about something.

“Hmm,” Harry ponders as he stands up and stretches, revealing his checkered boxers. “How about the remake of Evil Dead?”

“No, that one is too gory, and you know that.” 

“Good, then, that’s the one we’re watching,” Harry grumbles, picking up the controller for their video game system and pulling up Netflix.

Marcel sighs and watches in distress as Harry turns off the light and sits down on the floor in front of the screen. 

“I’ll go make the popcorn,” Marcel finally says in defeat, walking heavily out of the room. 

Their mum is in the kitchen with a warm mug of sleepytime tea and a smile. 

“Movie night?” She asks with raised brows.

“It’s Friday, of course it’s movie night,” Marcel replies a bit harshly, shoving the microwavable popcorn in the microwave. He realizes he has it in upside down and flips it over. 

“You alright, love?” Her look of concern only makes Marcel feel worse about the entire evening. 

“I don’t know,” he responds truthfully with slumped shoulders. 

She sets her tea on the counter and gestures Marcel to come closer, wrapping her arms around the boy. “Problems with your brother?”

“How’d you know?” Marcel asks, looking up at her in the face. Popcorn is popping wildly in the microwave.

“A mother always knows,” she says softly, planting a kiss on his forehead. “I’m going to go finish my book, now. Make up with him, please? I don’t want a weekend of bickering.” 

Marcel nods, and his mother walks out of the kitchen with her tea. 

“Shit,” he curses as he notices the state of the popcorn in the microwave, almost burnt most likely.

“I heard that,” his mum calls from around the corner. 

“Sorry, mum!”

Marcel walks into the bedroom with a bowl of slightly burnt popcorn and sits next to Harry, who is still rigid and unresponsive. 

“What’s your problem, Harry?” Marcel asks with a concerned brow.

“My problem?” Harry sounds like the question was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. Marcel doesn’t like the way his body language is headed, shoulders turned toward him and fists in a ball. “You’re my problem, Marcel.” 

“What did I do?” Marcel’s voice is sad, but he tries to cover it by eating a piece of popcorn. 

“You keep butting into my circle of friends like they’re yours, and they’re not, Marcel, they’re mine. Louis is mine, not yours!” Harry angrily grabs a handful of popcorn and uses his palm as a bowl as he eats from it. The title screen of Evil Dead remains on the screen, unplayed.   
“Louis invites me!” Marcel defends himself, but quickly pulls his knees up to him to make himself as small as possible. 

“He’s just being nice... He... He just feels sorry for you!” Harry stands up and stares down at Marcel now with flared nostrils. 

With a flare of confidence, Marcel stands up too and looks Harry straight in the eye. “Yeah, and that’s why he made out with me in the closet!”

“He what?” Harry’s anger drops immediately, his tone being replaced with a saddening echo. 

“And that’s not all he did, either!” Marcel crosses his arms and looks at the ground, biting his lip. 

“I don’t believe you,” Harry says now, but his voice remains the same.

“Well, you can trust me, because I’m the Doctor.” Marcel shrugs, referring to a previous conversation they’d had concluding that he is much like the time traveling timelord.

“The Doctor lies, though!” 

“Not always!” Marcel’s face drops as his argument does the same.

“That’s rule number one when traveling with the Doctor!” The conversation is getting off track, but Marcel is quite proud of how much Harry has picked up when watching Doctor Who marathons with him. 

“Okay, fine, but my point is I’m not lying! And Louis might actually like me, you know!” 

“Right,” Harry scoffs. He doesn’t see how much his words can sting Marcel. “I bet you don’t even know how to blow a guy.”

“I do too!” Marcel says quickly, but then recoils once he realizes what the statement was. “I mean, it can’t be that hard.” 

“Well, he won’t be if you’re in charge,” Harry laughs.

“What?” 

“Hard like... You know what, nevermind it was just a joke.” Harry places a hand on his forehead. 

“Like you know how anyway,” Marcel mutters, sitting down on the edge of his bed. 

“Actually, yes, I do.”

“Liar.” Marcel swallows and leans back slightly, his hands propping him up on either side of him. 

“I’m not lying, I’ll fucking show you if you don’t believe me.” Harry paces back and forth, scratching at his head. He’s always felt the need to be better than Marcel at anything besides grades.

“How would you even-?” Marcel stops short, realizing what he meant. 

Marcel suddenly sits up straight when he notices Harry walking over toward him. “Do you want to learn?”

“Yes.” 

It’s all Harry needs to hear before he gets down on his knees, placing both hands on each of Marcel’s legs. Harry moves in closer, his body now in between his brother’s thighs. He looks up, his nose bumping Marcel’s chin slightly. Marcel stays completely still, trying to even his breathing. 

Harry’s hands move up Marcel’s thighs, causing the thin fabric of his pajama pants to bunch up beneath his palms. Harry’s mouth is centimeters away from Marcel’s throat as he breathes heavily up and down on it. 

“Lesson one,” he says, pushing Marcel back so that he’s propped up by his elbows. “You’ve got to get them aroused. It’s not usually this easy.” 

Marcel doesn’t say anything in response, but he’s nodding intently. Harry raises the bottom of Marcel’s plain T-shirt, pushing it up to bare his chest and stomach. It’s smooth and a bit pasty. He makes contact with his lips, kissing from the chest down to the belly button. He latches onto the hip bone and sucks gently at first, followed by more urgent nibbles and tongue motions. 

It takes a lot for Marcel not to make the same noises that he made in the closet earlier that evening. He clenches the sheets beneath him as Harry’s fingers wrap around the waistband of his pants, pulling them down to his mid-thigh.

“Lesson two,” Harry continues, looking Marcel in the eyes. “Don’t be afraid.”

As soon as he says this, he immediately takes Marcel in his mouth as if he’d done it a thousand times before. Marcel gasps at the contact, and with each calculated movement of Harry’s head, mouth, and tongue, Marcel finds himself more and more lost to it. 

Some kind of guttural moan escapes from Marcel’s mouth as he climaxes, and he clamps a hand over his mouth, causing his stability to falter. He looks down at his brother now, watching as his adams apple bobs.

“Lesson three,” he breathes out softly. “Swallow.” 

Marcel pulls up his pants and falls backwards onto his bed, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Okay, fine.”

“Damn right, who’s the liar now?” The fact that Harry had gone so far to prove a point honestly didn’t even surprise Marcel. 

“Still not me. Louis really did kiss me.” 

There’s a loud sigh coming from Harry’s bed, and Marcel lifts his head just enough to see Harry’s face buried in his hands. He looks up and rests his chin on a fist. “Okay, even if that’s true, it’s only because you looked like me.” 

“No, he said my name!” Marcel frowns at Harry’s accusation. “You think Louis wouldn’t like me for who I really am?” 

“Yeah, I don’t think he would.” So blunt and irritatingly cruel. 

“Fine, I suppose we’ll see about that, won’t we?” Marcel crawls further onto his bed and under the covers with a glower. 

“I suppose so.” Harry turns off the light and TV, and mirrors Marcel’s motions into his own bed. 

The weekend is spent exactly how their mum didn’t want it. She sighs in exasperation as her boys quarrel and exchange death glares. 

 

It’s Monday morning and Marcel is ready for business as usual, which seems to put Harry in an even grumpier mood. Harry slams the door of his car shut, not saying a word to his brother who struggles to get out with his heavy backpack. It’s heavier today because he has his chess board with him for chess club after school. 

He’s a bit bent forward to level out the distribution of weight due to his belongings. Like an expert, Marcel weaves through the heavy flow of chattering students in the hallway. 

“Sorry,” he says immediately when he runs into someone.

“Oh, that’s alright, Marcel!” 

Marcel freezes at the chipper voice and looks up to see Louis’ bright smile. He swallows hard, looking over to where Harry is standing with an annoyed look on his face. 

“How you doin’, buddy?” 

“I-I’m okay...” He can feel his blush forming rapidly on his face. 

“You got enough in your backpack there? I feel like I could just barely tap you...” Louis reaches out and places a hand on Marcel’s chest, pushing forward with little to no pressure. Marcel in fact, does topple over. “and you would fall over. Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Marcel!”

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” he says quickly, but he allows Louis to help him up, gripping his forearms tightly and laughing slightly when he’s up and straight. 

“Hold on, now, let’s just fix this...” Louis tucks a bit of Marcel’s hair behind his hair so that it’s back in place.

“Thanks.” Marcel has a small smile on his face.

“We should get to class,” Harry says harshly, tugging Louis’ arm possessively.

“Yeah... See you, Marcel!” 

Marcel sighs like a hopelessly romantic twelve-year-old girl as he watches Louis walk away with a skip in his step. With a quick glance at the clock, he realizes that AP Calculus is waiting impatiently for him.

Sitting at his usual desk, he pulls out his Star Wars notebook and pen set. He’s startled by the sudden disturbance next to him as a boy sits down. Marcel does his best to ignore him, despite the fact that he is staring straight at his face. 

“Star Wars, huh?” He asks casually, gesturing to Marcel’s choice of stationery. 

“Uh huh,” is Marcel’s short but sweet reply. 

“I’m Liam.”

“I’m Marcel.” Marcel looks over at the boy now, he’d been in this class since the beginning of the year.

“Yeah, I know.” 

“I like your Captain America shirt,” Marcel comments. He’s not used to people trying to make conversation with him.   
“Yeah? Who’s your favorite superhero?”

“Hmm... I would have to say Iron Man.”

“So you like the Avengers, then?” Liam asks, his body is facing toward Marcel, and he’s leaning against his hand with his elbow propped up on the desk.

“Oh, yes, definitely. I’m more of a Marvel fan than a DC fan anyday.”

“Yeah, me too! Stan Lee definitely knows what he’s doing.” Liam smiles, and it makes his eyes crinkle. 

“Why are you just talking to me now?” Marcel asks, feeling a bit intimidated by this new acquaintance. 

“Oh, I’m not very good with social experiences... But you seem cool enough.”

“I am very cool,” Marcel says quickly with a shock of laughter. 

“Hey, if I say so then it must be accurate,” Liam jokes.

“Say that to my brother,” Marcel scoffs, playing with the edges of his notebook.

“Your brother is Harry, right? Looks just like you, and plays football? Yeah, he’s lame.”

Marcel’s face lights up at Liam’s statement with a chuckle. The teacher calls the class to attention then, and Marcel opens his notebook professionally. 

Liam tags along with Marcel after class, avidly discussing Lord of the Rings with him. 

“And it pisses me off so much when people complain about it and their only argument is ‘all it is is a bunch of walking.’ Like, that’s not even the point! There’s so much more than just...”

Liam’s voice fades away when he notices Marcel’s attention being grabbed by something else completely. 

“Hey, Louis!” He greets with a smile as they pass in the corridor.

“Hey, Marcel!” Louis winks at him and gives him a high five.

Liam examines Marcel’s smug smile and nudges him on the shoulder. “Who’s that, then?’

“Oh, you know... Just a friend.”

When the school day is over, Marcel is due for chess practice. He’s not really in the mood to deal with the usual suspects of chess club, so he decides to take the bus home instead of bothering his brother. Besides, he has a plan that he doesn’t want him in on. 

As soon as he makes it home, Marcel makes his way to Harry’s closet, sorting through some of his clothes. Changing up his look might not be too bad of an idea, Marcel had thought to himself. He should still have a bit of time before his brother got home so he would have no interruption. 

Suddenly there’s a loud laugh coming from the hallway, and Marcel is instantly able to place it with Louis’ face. Without thinking, he jumps into Harry’s closet and pulls the door behind him, leaving a crack for light. 

“What about your brother?” Louis asks.

“He’s at chess club. Not due home for another few hours.” 

“Oh, so we’re... alone?” Marcel looks through the crack and watches as Louis hooks his finger into the collar of Harry’s shirt, tugging it down slightly. He has a mischievous smile on his face, that’s mirrored on Harry’s. 

All of Marcel’s hopes and dreams are crushed the moment Louis presses his lips to his brother’s. It looks so natural for them, and Marcel is jealous of their chemistry. Harry pulls off Louis shirt, and Marcel can feel his pupils dilate as he watches Harry’s hands travel over Louis’ skin. 

Harry tugs at Louis’ jeans, pulling him forward for another kiss followed by a toothy smile. Before Marcel even realizes, Harry is on his knees and tugging Louis’ jeans down. He feels like it’s cheating, just casually watching as his brother went down on his crush, but Marcel can’t help but watch. He finds his nails digging into his palm as he observes the two of them going at each other. 

Both of them are unclothed now, and are at a harder angle for Marcel to see without straining his neck. He settles with his back against the back of the closet with a line of white light cast across his face and chest. 

“I bet you’re glad it’s me here instead of my brother, right?”

Marcel is interested now, and strains a bit harder to hear Louis’ response.

“Can we not talk about him right now?”

“Yeah, but just tell me, please. Like, at least you’re not with that loser, right?” Marcel’s heart sinks as he hears his brother speaking these words behind his back.

“Don’t talk about your brother like that! Marcel is a great guy, it’s just... He’s not you.” 

“Yeah, sorry... You’re right, it’s just. I want to be sure because he likes you, you know.”

“He does?”

“Oh, like it’s not obvious,” Harry says, practically speaking Marcel’s mind. “Not to mention what you did to him in the closet at your party.”

“Oh my god, I totally blacked out at that party... Poor Marcel...”

“Yeah, whatever, can we stop talking now?” 

Marcel stays still for what feels like an hour, hugging his knees to his chest as he waits for them to leave. 

When Louis greets Marcel with a warm smile the next morning, he ignores him completely, giving the cold shoulder. He arrives to AP Calculus a bit early, but he doesn’t care. He opens his textbook to look over the lesson plan from the day before just to refresh his memory. 

He smiles when Liam sits next to him again, wearing a shirt with a Slytherin crest on it.

“Oh, you’re a Slytherin?” Marcel asks with a feigned tone of disgust. “Don’t think I can be friends with you, man. I’m a Gryffindor.”

“Eh, at least you’re not a Hufflepuff.”

“That’s true,” Marcel responds, nodding as if he’d seen the brighter side of everything. 

“So how are you this morning, Gryffindork?” 

“Clever one, you are. I don’t know, really. I’ve been thinking about stuff. Maybe changing my image? What do you think? Should I be less of a pocket protector guy, and more of a ripped jeans and band shirts kind of guy?”

“Nah, I think you’re fine just the way you are.” Liam smiles shyly and opens his textbook as well, flipping absently through the pages. 

Marcel smiles to himself too, pretending to read his textbook. He rubs his neck and has a warm feeling inside his chest. He could be okay with being himself if someone else liked him that way too. 

“Just the way I am,” Marcel sighs, opening his Star Wars notebook in preparation for the class to start.


End file.
